“Let not the king be angry with his servant,” returned Phraortes, without hesitation.  “There are many thousand soldiers of the king in Echatana, and the horsemen traverse the country continually.  I have not armed any of the slaves, for I supposed we were safe in the protection of the king’s men.  Nevertheless, if the Great King command me—­”

“Thou couldst arm them immediately, I suppose?” interrupted Darius.  He watched Atossa narrowly; her face was in the shadow.

“Nay,” replied Phraortes, “for we have no arms.  But if the king will give us swords and spearheads—­”

“To what end?” asked Atossa.  She was perfectly calm since she saw that there was no fear of Phraortes making a mistake upon this vital point.  “What need have I of a force to protect lands that are all within a day’s journey of the king’s fortress?  The idea of carrying weapons would make all the slaves idle and quarrelsome.  Leave them their spades and their ploughs, and let them labour while the soldiers fight.  How many slaves have I now, Phraortes?”

“There were, at the last return, fourteen thousand seven hundred and fifty-three men, ten thousand two hundred and sixteen women, and not less than five thousand children.  But I expect—­”

“What can you do with so many?” asked Darius, turning sharply to the queen.

“Many of them work in the carpet-looms,” answered Phraortes.  “The queen receives fifty talents yearly from the sales of the carpets.”

“All the carpets in the king’s apartments are made in my looms,” said Atossa, with a smile.  “I am a great merchant.”

“I have no doubt I paid you dearly enough for them, too,” said the king, who was beginning to be weary of the examination.  He had firmly expected that either the Median agent, or the queen herself, would betray some emotion at the mention of arming the slaves, for he imagined that if Atossa had really planned any outbreak, she would undoubtedly have employed the large force of men she had at her disposal, by finding them weapons and promising them their liberty in the event of success.

He was disappointed at the appearance of the man Phraortes.  He had supposed him a strong, determined, man of imperious ways and turbulent instincts, who could be easily led into revolution and sedition from the side of his ambition.  He saw before him the traditional cunning, quick-witted merchant of Media, pale-faced and easily frightened; no more capable of a daring stroke of usurpation than a Jewish pedlar of Babylon.  He was evidently a mere tool in the hands of the queen; and Darius stamped impatiently upon the floor when he thought that he had perhaps been deceived after all—­that the queen had really written to Phraortes simply on account of her property, and that there was no revolution at all to be feared.  Impulsive to the last degree, when the king had read the letter to Phraortes, his first thought had been to see the man for himself, to ask him a few questions